


Without Fear 5

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Series: Without Fear series by Scala [5]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, First Times, M/M, Romance, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:09:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim moves on - but not quite the way Blair imagines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without Fear 5

## Without Fear 5

by Scala

Not infringement of copyright is intended in the production of this story. (see, I can disclaim with the best of them.)

Kisses to the elegant and insightful Kaye for beta-ing above and beyond the call. More virtual kisses to those who keep writing and telling me of the agnoy they're in. <g> I hope this helps a little <bg>.

Okay, people, we're getting there now. In answer to everybody's questions - there are 8 Parts in total. This being part 5 means it follows part 4 etc etc.  
No plumbing equipment was in any way injured during the course of writing this story. Read that sentence as you will.

This story is a sequel to: Without Fear 4 

* * *

Without Fear Part Five 

April 

_Three days earlier_ : 

The phone rang just as Jim got to the door, and he struggled with keys and mail and groceries to get inside before the machine could pick it up. He burst into the loft and dropped everything, diving for the phone. In two days it would be exactly one year since Blair had gone, but every time the phone rang he still hoped it might be him. 

'Ellison.' 

'Jim? Glad I caught you. You've got class tonight, haven't you?' 

'Steven,' Jim had trained himself to hide the disappointment long ago. 'That's right. I leave in half an hour. Why, what's up?' 

'Well, I was going to stop by and then I remembered you had class, so I thought I'd better call instead. Wanted to tell you myself.' 

'Tell me what, Steven? Time's a-wastin'.' 

'Um, it's about Megan.' 

Jim frowned. Connor had been off work sick for the last three days. Silently he hoped this wasn't bad news. 'How is she?' 

'She's fine. Says she'll be in tomorrow. But, um, you have to go easy on her.' 

'Why?' 

'She's pregnant.' 

Jim froze, then found a huge grin crossing his face. 'Congratulations! Man, is Dad going to be mad with you two. The wedding's not for another six months.' 

'Which is why we're moving it forward.' 

'How come?' 

'Why do you think? Megan doesn't want to be huge in all her wedding photos. Besides, there's a possibility there might be complications and we've been advised to do it now, while she's still fit and healthy.' 

'But she's okay now, isn't she?' 

'Yeah, she's just fine - if you ignore the morning sickness, the mood swings and the bizarre eating habits. But hey, what am I saying - you have to work with her, you'll get to know them all only too well.' 

'So when's the wedding?' 

'May 6th.' 

'Shit, that's two weeks away!' 

'Can you make it?' 

'Hell, I don't know, I'll have to look at my calendar - but don't worry about it, I'll work it out. Need any help with the arrangements?' 

'Don't be silly. I'm a man - weddings arrange themselves, haven't you heard?' 

'Very funny. So how's it feel knowing you're about to be a father?' 

'Terrifying. But that's what everybody says, right?' 

'Pretty much.' 

'Only, I get to worry about the other stuff as well, don't I?' 

Jim knew he was referring to the sentinel abilities this child might well inherit. They'd discussed the situation at length and although this pregnancy was a little earlier than planned, Jim knew Steven and Megan had decided to take a chance anyway - especially since they already had an expert in the family and at least now knew what to look for. If this kid turned out to be a sentinel, he or she'd at least have a chance to live a fairly normal life. 

'Look, Stevie, I wouldn't worry about any of that right now. From what Sandburg said chances are if it manifests, it certainly won't do so while the kid's a baby. He said this kind of thing works in an very logical manner. If a newborn had spiking senses, the distraction would be enough to either send it insane or kill it - therefore, the genes would never be passed on. It makes sense that only develop in older children, when the child is old enough to learn to deal with them. Either way, just focus on looking after Megan. If necessary, I'll post Sandburg as a missing person with the FBI and track him down to help. Just relax, okay?' 

'Thanks, Bro, I appreciate it. Megan's more casual about it than me, but I guess she's seen you in action more often. Besides, she's Australian - laid-back is her middle name.' 

'Which will sound real interesting during the wedding service.' 

Steven laughed, 'Yeah, well I just wanted to let you know. I'm on my way to Dad's now. I'll let you get to your class.' 

'Thanks for calling. And pass on my congratulations to Megan. Hopefully I'll see her tomorrow.' 

Jim put the phone down, his grin still firmly in place. He was going to be an uncle. There was going to be a baby hanging around, with horribly poopy diapers and milky vomit. His senses would be assailed with sensations he wasn't entirely comfortable with - but that still didn't wipe the smile from his face. 

He glanced at the clock. He had fifteen minutes before he had to leave for class. Just enough time to put away the groceries and open his mail. 

The first only took him two minutes. Then he stood by the table as he flicked through the mail, ignoring the fact that there wasn't anything there from Sandburg. Instead, there were two thick manila envelopes he'd been expecting. He opened one, pulling out the contents with a nod of satisfaction. 

On the top was a letter of congratulations, and underneath it, his Private Detective's Registration certificate. Included was a weighty brochure full of industry news and associations he could now join, but he didn't do more than flick through it. He could read more of it later. He opened the second envelope which contained the forms he'd ordered a month ago, ready to be completed to register his own company. 

More than content with the day's booty, he moved around to the other end of the table and lifted off the top of the box file he left sitting there. Inside, the box was almost full of manila folders, each with a label carefully attached. He flicked through until he reached the one entitled, 'Detective Agency' and slid the relevant papers inside. The next, 'Own Business,' received the remaining documents. 

Done, he smoothed his hands over the edges of the folders. Almost full. He had a box almost full with options, possibilities, directions he and Blair could take their lives. Some ideas were way out there, others, like the agency, made perfect sense. And he'd promised himself, when the file was full, if Blair hadn't already come home by then, Jim would take off all his accrued leave and go find him. 

One way or another, this aching, hellish, diabolical waiting would come to an end. 

With another nod, he slid the lid back on the box, picked up his jacket and bag of school books and headed out to class. 

* * *

As the students around him picked up their stuff and began moving out of the lecture hall, Jim finished scribbling down his last notes and closed his book. The teacher had already gone leaving him one of the last to leave. 

As usual, Julian was waiting for him by the door, half a smile on his face, shaking his head. 'I don't know, Detective, you're always the last to leave. Makes the rest of us look shallow and uncaring.' 

Jim shrugged as they headed out into the hallway together. 'It's a natural talent.' 

'Well I won't deny that. Still, I just don't get why a cop, with your years of experience is putting in extra hours studying sociology and criminology. Don't you get enough of that at work?' 

'It's one thing to see it in action, another entirely to understand the background to it. Besides, I'm not doing this solely for work.' 

'Then why?' 

'Why else? I'm interested. Aren't you?' 

At that, Julian glanced sideways at him with a dreadfully obvious smile in his eyes, 'Haven't I already made that clear?' 

Jim couldn't help blushing a little, but he laughed it off, pretending he wasn't tempted, as he always did, pretending the very thought didn't send shivers down his spine and left him with very vivid dreams the nights of his classes. If it wasn't for the fact that he felt like he was betraying Blair, he'd have been seriously tempted to do more than blush and smile. 

'Are we having a drink?' 

Jim paused as they hit the night air, his gaze as always, unable to avoid the fountain outside Hargrove Hall on the other side of the square. But he didn't linger on it. Instead, he nodded. 'Sure. I actually have something to celebrate tonight.' 

'Really? What?' 

'Well, I probably shouldn't say anything, but it turns out I'm going to be an uncle in about six months.' 

Julian, to whom all things child-related were utter anathema, shuddered violently and rolled his eyes. 'I shall drink with you only to commiserate. Trust me, my friend, this is a day you will come to regret.' 

'Says the man with so much experience of babies.' 

'Which is exactly why I say, run now, while you can!' 

Laughing, they walked across campus to the pub and found a table close to the back, near the pool tables. They'd played pool the first time they'd come here, a few months back. Julian had asked Jim out after their second class together. Jim had agreed, but made it clear he was only interested in friendship. That hadn't stopped Julian dropping the odd heavy hint now and then, but it hadn't dented the chemistry between them, allowing them ample time to enjoy each other's company without the added stress of expectation. 

'Beer?' Julian asked, standing before their table. 

'Definitely beer. I have to work tomorrow.' 

With a nod, the younger man headed to the bar and Jim, for a moment pretending he was simply looking around the place for familiar faces, finally had to admit that he was watching the younger man move, and the way his jeans fit across his ass. 

Well, truth was, Julian would be insulted if he _didn't_ look. At least, that was the rationalization Jim allowed himself. The moment Julian turned to head back with the beers, Jim instantly made himself busy, pulling out one of the handouts the teacher had given them of reading matter expected for the next unit of sociology. 

A mug of icy beer slid across the table in front of him before Julian took up the seat opposite. Jim raised his mug, deliberately forcing his friend to meet the toast. 'To healthy babies and healthy mothers.' 

'Oh, all right,' Julian groaned, 'but only because they're related to you, okay?' 

'Good enough.' 

They both drank. Julian sat back and surveyed the bar while Jim glanced at the list. He already knew some of the books - they were sitting on Sandburg's shelf, so at least he wouldn't have to go out and find them. Others he didn't recognize at all and for a moment, he had that all-too-familiar wash of inadequacy that ran through him when he allowed himself to actually contemplate what he was doing here. Was he too old to be studying at this level? Was he making a fool of himself broadening his horizons in order to build some common ground between himself and a returned Blair? Or was he simply going through some demented and half-assed mid-life crisis and school was just his version of the heavy gold chain, hairy chest and red Ferrari? 

'Anything interesting?' Julian asked, planting his elbows on the table and trying to read the list upside down. 

'Take a look.' Jim turned the paper around but Julian didn't look at it. 'What?' 

Julian Chambers was twenty-seven, a property consultant who hated his job and wanted to do something else - only he had no idea what. He was openly gay and didn't give a flying fuck what anybody thought of him. He stood a few inches shorter than Jim, with sandy, wavy hair that often fell over his face when he was drunk. He was fit, lithe and loved it when guys said nice things about his ass. He was also, Jim had discovered, a closet Doctor Who fan. 

The young man studied him for long moments, then turned back to his beer, giving a tiny shrug that Jim knew meant there was something wrong. 'What is it?' 

'I was just wondering. Have you ever been on a date with a guy?' 

Jim groaned and shook his head, 'Julian, you know what I said.' 

'Yeah, I do. You said you were happy to be friends. So we're friends. Doesn't mean we can't be more. Why can't we be friends who date?' 

'Because.' 

'Because? That's your answer?' 

'Look-' 

'Jim, just listen, okay?' Julian leaned forward on his elbows again, his expression earnest. 'We get along really well, right? We have a drink after class, we play pool or darts. We talk about work and school and movies, and we both look forward to seeing each other. Maybe it's escaped your notice, but in many respects, we're _already_ dating. We're just leaving out the really fun part.' 

Jim snorted and picked up his beer. 'That's it? That's your argument to get me into bed?' 

'Well, that and the fact that I have wet dreams about you. Does that count?' 

Jim burst out laughing, unable to stop the full flush that ripped across his face. Julian just grinned at him cheekily. 

'Look, Jim, I really think we should give it a try, you know? What if it turns out there is something more there? I know the idea scares you a little, but I promise, I don't bite - at least not on a first date. And we can take it slow, as slow as you like. You can learn as you go and if you say stop any time, we can and no harm done. Come on, Jim, please? Just one date, that's all I'm asking.' 

Watching the young man, Jim couldn't help but admit he was attracted. There was nothing about Julian that turned him off, and a hell of a lot that turned him on. And of course, he wasn't actually _in_ a relationship with Blair, rather, he was in love with a man who almost didn't exist any more. 

But was that a good enough reason to turn his back on his feelings? If he did go through with this, would he regret it afterwards and really feel like he _had_ betrayed Blair? 

There was no way of knowing the answer to that - but there was another more pressing question that required an answer. For the last six months, he'd done all he could to understand and explore his sexuality - up to but excluding actually doing something with a guy. 

What if it turned out that he couldn't? What if, after all that fantasizing, the only way he could contemplate sex with a man was if it all happened in his head? What if the actual touch of a man was enough to turn him off completely? 

And how would Blair feel if he did come back, and Jim told him how he felt, and they ended up in bed together and after all that, so many months apart, almost a year now, all that time, and Jim had to reject him simply because the physical act turned him off completely. 

No, he couldn't do that - either to himself or to Blair. But at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to just dive into a sexual relationship with Julian. For a start, he liked the guy and wasn't really interested in using him like that. On the other hand, Julian didn't have as much invested in Jim and maybe if it didn't work out, they could still salvage their friendship. 

Maybe if Jim explained. 

'I guess the answer's no,' Julian murmured with disappointment after Jim's long silence. 

'Actually,' Jim looked up with an attempt at a smile, 'I was thinking a definite maybe.' 

Julian's eyes lit up, 'You were?' 

'Only, I need you to understand a few things first.' 

'Sure.' 

'You know I've never been with a guy, right, so yeah, we have to take it slowly, but not a snail's pace, okay?' 

'No problem.' 

'And, if it doesn't work out, let's not get tangled up in it. I'd rather keep the friendship.' 

Julian nodded slowly, 'Okay, I can live with that.' 

'Good.' 

'So, um, Jim, you free tomorrow night? I was thinking dinner and a movie.' 

'Jeez you don't waste time, do you?' 

'Life's too short Jim. I'd like to get you into bed some time before I hit thirty.' He grinned cheekily again, 'only if you want to, of course.' 

Jim drained his beer and got to his feet. Leaning down, he murmured, 'Don't jump to conclusions: I never said I didn't _want_ to go to bed with you.' 

Julian's eyes sparkled at that as he looked up at Jim. 'I'll pick you up at seven. Dress nice.' 

With a wave, Jim collected his books and walked out of the pub into the fresh April air. 

The walk back to the truck didn't take him long, but the small high lasted the whole way. 

He hadn't been on a date in months and months. There'd been a few disastrous attempts engineered by Steven and encouraged by Rafe and Joel. But he'd still been too raw from Sandburg's departure to really be much in the way of good company. Both women had been lovely, and certainly deserving of more than he could give them, so he hadn't bothered asking either out again. He could be pretty thick some days, but he wasn't so stupid as to... well, as to flog a dead horse, so to speak. 

So he had a date tomorrow night, his first ever with a man. 

No. Not his first ever with a man. His first date with a man had been that night at Saint George, with Blair. 

That brought him up cold. He climbed into the truck but didn't start it immediately. Instead, he just sat there and remembered that night, with dinner and Blair's flashes of panic, the fireworks and the music and the great food and then sitting in this very truck afterwards, as Jim fumbled with his attempts to show Blair how much he wanted it all to work for both of them. 

And Blair's murmurs of need that had both drawn him in and terrified him. 

'Jesus, Chief, where are you?' He whispered into the darkness. 'Why won't you come home? Please, just come home. I need you.' 

And that was the thing, really. The one thing Blair hadn't ever noticed as he'd busily been diving off the cliff into the great unknown. There'd been so much going on with the senses, and Alex and Veronica and the dissertation that Blair had never noticed how Jim needed him for things outside of all that. And if he had known, then maybe it would have been a little easier for him to hold on, to be able to stick around to find his feet, instead of running away. 

Of course, it would have made it much easier on both of them if Jim had just simply admitted that he needed Blair. Much easier indeed. Truth was, he'd had no real idea himself at the time. 

But it was way too late for all that now. Now they had to keep moving forward, or nothing would ever get resolved. 

He started the truck and headed home. But he kept the radio off as he drove, listening to the echo of his lonely whisper, hoping somehow it would make its way to Blair. 

* * *

The date went well, all things considered. They ended up doing the movie thing first, as the only film they could agree on had only an early show, so they bought popcorn and sat in the back row, planning on dinner later. 

The film was okay, but not that absorbing for Jim. It wasn't the film's fault really - it was just hard for him to really concentrate when all he could feel was Julian's pleasant warmth pressed up against him, his scent giving Jim a slight buzz of arousal all night long. Half way through the film, in a move he laughingly considered quite daring, he put his arm around the younger man's shoulders, pulling him closer, only to be rewarded with the flash of a smile in return. 

The restaurant was Julian's choice, and not one Jim had ever been to. The food was good, the conversation engaging and they lingered over coffee, as though Julian wasn't sure just how far he could push the whole idea of a date. 

And then it was time to go and they walked back to the car close enough to touch, although Jim refrained from holding Julian's hand - it seemed a little too much for him, considering the circumstances, and the fact that he was a cop in this city and still hadn't really come to terms with whether he would ever come out in that respect. 

As they turned the final corner however, he heard Julian let out a soft laugh. 

'What?' Jim asked, abruptly self-conscious. 

'Nothing really. I was just wondering if this was slow enough for you, or whether you'd consider upping the pace a little.' 

Jim gave that a moment's thought, then replied, 'I could up the pace a little, I guess. What did you have in mind?' 

Julian came to a halt beside his car, turned and leaned back against it. With his smile gone, he reached up and put his arms around Jim's neck, drawing him down a little until Jim could feel the man's breath on his face. 'How about this?' And with that, Julian kissed him. 

To Jim's surprise, it wasn't like kissing Blair at all. Not that it wasn't nice, because it was. But he'd thought there'd be more he could relate to, with them both being men and with them both being the only men he'd ever kissed. 

Julian drew back after a moment to look into Jim's eyes. 'Too much?' 

Though it was dark in this corner of the street, he could see Julian's slightly nervous expression very well. He could also feel the strong body in his arms, and scent the waves of arousal floating up towards him. He couldn't deny how good it felt to be wanted, to actually have somebody this close to him again, the warmth and the intimacy almost overwhelming to his starved senses. 

Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. 

Julian must have seen something on his face because at that moment, he began to pull away, an apology on his lips - but Jim wouldn't let him go. Instead, he tugged him closer, and whispered, 'Perhaps it's not enough.' 

With that, he took the younger man's mouth, controlling the kiss, exploring it, doing his best to forget about Blair for a moment. Then they were both breathing a little too hard and he could feel something equally hard pressing into his thigh. Some distant part of him found that utterly amazing - almost as amazing as the fact that he was just as hard himself. 

He leaned down for another kiss, going slower this time, wanting to be sure about this before he said anything, wanting to be absolutely certain as there would be no turning back afterwards. 

But the warmth was intoxicating, and the closeness, and he'd been starved of all this for so long, for too long. There'd been those few precious moments in Blair's arms, and then nothing, for a year. He and Blair had always touched so much but since he'd been gone, Jim had been reduced to accidental bumps and the occasional massage at the gym to work out sore muscles. 

He drew back a little, giving them both space to breathe. Then Julian spoke, his voice a little husky. 'Back to your place?' 

Jim could only shake his head in wonder that he'd ever been afraid of this. 'Yeah, back to my place.' 

* * *

Jim left the lights off as they stepped inside the loft. He took off his jacket, removed Julian's and steered the younger man towards the couch where they sat together and immediately picked up right where they'd left off. 

The kissing was good, though even through his arousal Jim could feel there was something missing. It wasn't vital and necessary, but it was missing all the same. Well, that was only to be expected, and wasn't enough at this point, to make him stop. And then after a while, shirts were removed and skin pressed to skin and that was nice as well. Very nice. 

Before he knew it, they were stretched out on the couch, moving against each other until Julian rolled Jim beneath him, his hands moving down between them until he could grasp Jim's hardness through his trousers. 

'Is this too much?' Julian asked, breathless and very hard himself. 

'No, not too much. At least, not yet.' Jim reached down and caught the younger man's ass, tugging him closer again, pushing his hips up to meet the thrust down. 'Oh, god.' 

'Maybe we should reveal a little more skin?' 

'No, not going to last that long,' Jim moaned, only half-lying. He couldn't last that long, but that wasn't why he didn't want to get naked. 

'You're okay with this?' Julian dropped moist kisses around each of Jim's nipples, pausing to bite gently. 

'Yeah, it's good, believe me, it's good.' 

''Cause I wanna make you come.' 

'Keep doing that and you'll get your wish.' 

Julian laughed at that, then sobered, sliding between Jim's legs to mouth Jim's erection through the cloth. Jim lurched up into the touch, but soon caught the man's shoulders to pull him back up. Then together, they set a rhythm going, thrusting against each other until with a cry, Julian began to come, the heat, the wetness and the intoxicating smell of semen enough to send Jim over into the abyss, his climax hitting him like a freight train. 

* * *

He woke to the sound of his alarm going upstairs. He blinked hard against the light, frowning, for a moment, unable to work out why he was lying on the couch in his trousers and nothing else. But then a faint mumble and a snort from his left reminded him of exactly what he'd done last night. 

And it hit him, hard and square in the chest, just as he'd suspected it would. 

But even as the swell of regret threatened to drown him, he took in a deep breath and pushed it back down. He couldn't deal with this now, not with Julian lying sprawled over him, their combined sweat and semen soaking the air of the loft like perfume in a rose garden. 

'Hey,' he shook the younger man's shoulder gently. 'Time to wake up. Some of us have to work, you know.' 

'Mmmn, very overrated. Take the day off. I'll keep you busy.' 

Jim tried to smile but couldn't. Julian noticed the lack of reply and raised his head from Jim's shoulder. He blinked blearily a few times, then raised his eyebrows and sat up enough to let Jim move. 

'Ah, I see,' Julian said deliberately. 'That good, huh?' 

Jim sat beside him on the couch, elbows planted on his knees, feeling the discomfort of dried semen in his trousers and none too happy about it. 'You know I enjoyed it.' 

Julian was silent a moment, then got to his feet, running his hands through his hair to straighten it. He walked over to the bookshelf and picked up a photo frame. 'Is this him?' 

'Him who?' 

Turning around, Julian showed him a picture of Blair taken years before, when they'd gone fishing up at the lake behind his Dad's house. 'This the guy you're carrying the torch for?' 

A denial was on Jim's lips, ready to be spoken. But he never said it. There was a time for lies and a time for honesty. If he'd learned anything over the last year, it was that most of all, he had to stop lying to himself. And it was the lies to himself that cut sharpest now: for all his efforts over the last year, he hadn't actually _changed_ anything - he'd just made plans to. And now action had overtaken thought, he was busy scrambling for a safety net, suddenly unsure if he really wanted change at all. 

So he told the truth. 'Yeah, that's him.' 

'He coming back some day?' 

'I honestly don't know.' 

Julian simply kept his eyes on the photo and nodded. Jim got to his feet and approached him, taking the picture and putting it down before pulling the man into his arms. 'I'm sorry. I tried to warn you.' 

'I'm okay, Jim,' Julian offered softly. 'I just wanted to give it a shot. Would never have forgiven myself if I hadn't. And it was nice. Very nice. You ever decide to put that torch out, you give me a call.' 

'I guess that means we're not dating any more.' 

Julian gave him a little laugh, then tilted his head back enough to give Jim a gentle kiss. 'It's up to you, Jim. But if we do keep dating, I'm gonna want to get naked. I'm gonna want to actually make it to the bed and the other things I'm going to want to do with you could never be contained on a couch. But somehow, I don't think you want to do any of that for the first time with me. Which, I guess, makes me a little sad, but I understand. What I don't understand, is how this guy could ever leave you.' 

Jim shrugged, 'It's complicated.' 

'Honey,' Julian camped, 'it's _always_ complicated.' 

With a laugh, Jim pulled him closer, kissing him for what would be the last time. When they finally parted, he said, 'I'm going to take a shower. I do still have to go to work. Help yourself to coffee and you can have the shower when I'm done.' 

'Sounds good.' 

Jim let him go then and headed towards the bathroom, pausing at the door to look back. 'Are we okay with this? Friends?' 

'Yeah, Jim,' Julian shook his head with mock impatience. 'I meant what I said. We're okay. Friends.' 

'Good.' 

Jim dived into the shower, making it as quick as he could. He could smell coffee brewing by the time he got out. He dried himself, wrapped his robe around him and headed out into the kitchen. Julian had left a mug for him on the counter and smiled as he walked past, making for the bathroom. 

'Hey,' Jim called just as the door was about to close. 'Did I hear the phone while I was under?' 

'No. Might have been next door.' Julian turned the water on then, shutting the door, ending the conversation. Jim just shook his head and headed upstairs to get dressed. 

With everything he had rattling around inside him now, he just knew it was going to be a very long day. 

* * *

May 

Blair became aware of the sun again as he slowly came back to himself. He breathed in deeply, holding it a moment, before letting it out, becoming more aware of his surroundings with each second until he could open his eyes and look out across the glorious sweep of the Pacific. 

Carefully, he stretched his neck to each side, then unfolded his legs from the semi lotus he'd been sitting in for the last hour or so. He pushed his arms up over his head and stretched again. 

He felt eyes on him, but said nothing. Instead, Daisy walked through the garden gate of the Bar and sat down on the cliff top beside him. 

For a moment she said nothing, just looked out at the ocean and the dozens of surfers out enjoying the waves. Then she turned to Blair, 'Does that really make you feel better?' 

'Meditation?' Blair shrugged, 'Sure. You should try it. They give classes at the Ashram.' 

She smiled a little, 'I think I'd rather just surf. That always makes me feel great, no matter how shitty I'm feeling.' 

With a glance aside at her, Blair had to admit that he couldn't imagine her feeling shitty ever - so maybe the surfing worked. 'Different horses.' 

'Well,' she took in a breath, 'maybe you should let me teach you how to surf.' 

'I've never really wanted to learn.' Blair picked up the bottle of water he'd set down earlier and took a mouthful. 'And why aren't you down there. We're closed today - you should be out enjoying yourself.' 

'Oh, I will. Just...' 

'What?' 

Daisy turned to face him squarely, 'Are you okay? You really haven't been yourself the last few weeks. Not since that guy, Dutch, not since I saw him leaving here that morning. Is it him or is it something else? Something that I can help with.' 

Blair could only smile and shake his head. 'No, it's not Dutch. We had a good time, he was a nice guy, but...' 

'Then what?' 

Turning back to the view, Blair shrugged. She was right, he hadn't been himself since he'd made that phone call to Jim and got the lover instead. But which self wasn't he being? The way things changed these days, how was he to know that this quiet, somber self wasn't any more valid than the teary, raging self of a year ago? 

'It's complicated.' 

Daisy moved a little closer, reaching out to touch his arm. 'It doesn't have to be. Maybe if you talked about it.' 

Sure he could talk about it, but he'd have to leave out huge chunks of detail and where would that leave him? And really, would that make her understand - or him? How many times had he gone over it himself and still arrived nowhere. Truth was, the only person he wanted to talk about it with was Jim - the only friend who knew him well enough to understand. 

'Thanks, Daisy,' he murmured after a moment, patting her hand. 'But I'll be okay. Really. You go surf.' 

'Sure? You don't want some company for a while? I learned a great new card game last night, from these guys from Texas.' 

'Does it involve the removal of clothes?' 

She laughed at him and shook her head. 'Not unless you _want_ to remove them, no.' 

'Then we'll play later, okay? I know Dean has some leftover fish pie in the fridge. I'll warm it up.' 

'Deal.' Daisy got to her feet, studied him for a moment longer then ran back into the Bar to grab her stuff. 

Blair waited a moment, then stood as well, completing his stretches before heading inside. He had laundry to do and some letters to write. Naomi was in Tierra Del Fuego for the next month, the first time in ages that she'd had a stable address. He'd been putting off writing to her for the last few days, but today he finally felt ready. He felt ready for a lot of things - maybe even ready to start thinking about what he was going to do with the rest of his life. 

He came to a halt when he picked up the postcard Naomi had sent. He re-read her scrawled words, yet another apology for how things had turned out. He hadn't seen her since that day at the PD, and he knew he still wasn't ready. 

But maybe this was just a sign that it was time he move on. Maybe it was time to leave this comfortable life in Encinitas and try something else, something even more challenging than working eighteen hours a day. Something that would give him something more of himself back. The self that he still missed. The self that he'd believed would be impossible to lose. 

No, he was done with running. No matter how many miles he traveled, he still ended up taking himself with him, so what was the point? No, it was good here, and it was going to get better, he was sure of it. He would find something eventually, if he actually bothered to start looking. And maybe he would even find somebody to fill the void left by Jim. 

With a faint smile on his face, he went upstairs to get his laundry. For the first time in a long time, he actually felt a little hope. 

* * *

June 

'Okay, people, the exam is in three weeks. I hope you've all done the reading. Next week, we'll continue revision, covering the major points of the first unit. I want your essays at the end of that lecture, whether they're finished or not. In the meantime, put your efforts into making a list of questions for next week. Anything you're not sure of, just ask. That's all, have a good week.' 

Jim collected his books up and shoved them into the small backpack he'd borrowed from Blair's room. At first, he'd felt a little guilty using it, but that had been overridden by the desire to have something of Blair with him each time he came to the university. He didn't really understand his motives, but these days he didn't much care. 

Julian was waiting for him by the door as usual. After their brief fling, the younger man had kept his distance a little, but over the last couple of weeks, things seemed to be getting back to normal, and Jim was glad. 

'So, I keep meaning to ask you, how did the wedding go?' Julian began as they walked down the hallway together. 

'Actually, it was pretty good.' 

'Went off without a hitch?' 

'Nothing we couldn't handle. Of course, Megan's pretty much now off work until she comes back from maternity leave. Doctors don't want her moving around any more than necessary. She's pissed about it, but obviously wants to make sure the baby's okay.' 

'So you have to break in a new partner?' 

'Not really. It's a guy I've worked with off and on over the last few years. Joel's a little older than me, but he's good company and a good cop. I could do much worse.' 

They stepped outside and Julian asked the inevitable question, 'Drink?' 

Jim shook his head - and abruptly his answer was stifled by a huge yawn. 'Not tonight. I've been working double shifts all week and I'm beat. Only got two hours' sleep last night and three the night before. Can't remember the last time I had eight hours undisturbed. Do you mind if I leave it till next week?' 

Julian patted his arm, 'No problem, Jim. Go home and get some rest. I'll see you Tuesday.' 

As Jim turned to go, Julian stopped him. 'By the way, how did you go catching up with that old friend of yours? Were you surprised to hear from him?' 

Turning, Jim frowned. 'What old friend?' 

'You know, that guy who rang the morning I was at your place.' 

Jim took a step closer, a sudden stillness filling him inside. 'What are you talking about?' 

Julian shook his head a little. 'He said he'd call back later. That he wanted to keep it a surprise, that's why I didn't say anything to you.' 

Jim held up his hand, 'Just tell me from the beginning. That morning after our date. There was a phone call?' 

'Yeah, while you were in the shower. I could see the machine wasn't on and I thought it might be your work, so I answered it. This guy on the other end sounded surprised and thought he had the wrong number. He asked to speak to you and I said you were in the shower. I asked him his name so you could call him back, and he said it was Blair but that-' 

'Oh, shit!' 

'But that he didn't want me to tell you he'd called 'cause he wanted it to be a surprise. He said he was an old friend who'd been out of touch...' Julian paused as Jim sank to the park bench beside him. 'Oh, my god - it was him, wasn't it? The guy in the photo? He was calling and-' 

'And you answered the phone. Shit!' Jim got to his feet, pacing up and down, unable to keep still. 'God, I wait for a year for him to call me, I hear nothing at all from him for so long and the moment he finally does call, it's right after you and I have...' 

He came to a halt, surprised to find his hands shaking, his whole body rattling through to his core. But he didn't have time to deal with his reactions right now. He spun around and grabbed Julian's shoulders. 'Did he say anything else? Did he give _any_ indication where he was? Anything at all I can go on?' 

Julian swallowed, his eyes wide, 'No, that was about it. I think ... when he realized I wasn't somebody he knew, he just kind of made a quick exit. I think he even said his name by accident. God, I'm so sorry, Jim. If I'd known it was the guy in the photo I would have said something, honest.' 

Jim took a deep breath and nodded, easing up his grip on his friend. 'Look, Julian, it's okay, it's not your fault at all. There's no way you could have known. I just...' He dropped his hands and turned away, the energy suddenly draining out of him. 'I just don't know what to do next.' 

Standing close, Julian murmured, 'Hey, it's okay, Jim. This has come as a shock to you and you're already exhausted. Go home, get some sleep and then think about it in the morning. Come on, I'll drive you.' 

'No, that's okay.' Jim turned and picked up the backpack he'd dropped in his shock. He turned and gave Julian something that wanted to be a smile but couldn't. 'I'll be fine. I'll see you Tuesday.' 

With that, he walked away. 

* * *

Jim did go home. He even went to bed after downing a large whiskey - okay, two large whiskies. His head hit the pillow and despite all his worst fears, his brain simply switched off. 

And promptly switched back on a short four hours later, as though that was the minimum sleep he needed and he could now get back to worrying. He laid in bed a moment, fully alert and feeling like he hadn't slept at all, but then he got up, pulled on some sweats and headed downstairs to make some tea. 

Armed with his mug and a pair of socks on his feet, he sat out on the balcony, letting the cool air of the midsummer night caress his skin like the touch of a lover. 

The city at four am was actually kind of nice from up here. Without extending his sight, he could only see the surface of things, and they looked okay, the way they looked after a few hours of snow, with all the dirt and cracks hidden. 

And as he sat there, sipping his tea, in the calm of the pre-dawn light, he allowed himself to come to the only conclusion he had left: Blair was never coming home. 

The tears that stung his eyes surprised him. Hadn't he already gone way past that point? But apparently not. Apparently, the assumption everybody else had arrived at - and never said to his face - was the one thing he'd constantly refused to admit. 

But now he had no choice. Even if - and it was a big if - Blair had called to say he was coming back, he would have been here by now since the call was over six weeks ago. If he'd been calling to see if it was okay for him to come back, encountering Julian on the phone may well have been the one answer he wasn't prepared for and therefore, given him enough reason not to call back. 

And then of course, if Blair had been calling to tell Jim he wasn't coming back, then finding Julian in the loft at that time of the morning would have been a clear message to Blair that Jim had moved on, and was no longer waiting for Blair - and so again, Blair would feel no need to call back and discuss it. 

But none of those scenarios were the truth. Not one. And without a way to reach Blair, he had no way of _communicating_ the truth. 

He'd exhausted all his avenues. He'd tracked down every one of Blair's friends, from Rainier, from the PD, from the various community groups and charities Blair had been involved with. He'd even managed to find Blair's cousin Robert - and nobody, not one of them had any idea where to find Blair, or even where to start looking. 

So where did that leave Jim? 

Staring in the face of the one option he hadn't yet exercised, the one person he could go to. And why hadn't he? Was it because he suspected that this person, out of all the others, was the one who had an answer for him? And he hadn't wanted that answer because it still scared him? 

Sandburg had once told him it was a perfectly human characteristic to resist change - even a change you want. And he'd resisted with every ounce of determination, while at the same time, paying lip service to the concept of embracing change. He'd come out to his father, for chrissakes, and yet, had made no plans to actually consummate his broadened sexuality. What kind of moron did something that stupid? 

The kind of moron who, after a year, still hadn't learned his lesson. Change had to come from within. It wasn't enough for him to move around the furniture, to put up shelves and fill a box file with possibilities - he actually had to change himself, inside. And until he did, wanting Blair to come back was a foolish fantasy. 

He drained his tea and got to his feet. Heading inside, he put the cup on the counter and made straight for the bathroom. 

Sometimes change came by accident, at others, by design. And there were times when change itself was more necessary than breathing. 

Jim had just spent a year suffocating himself. 

He stepped under the hot spray with only one thing on his mind. If he got out of the city within the hour, he could keep the drive down to a couple of hours. 

* * *

He began to tire again not long after he'd cleared the city and he still had an hour to go. So he pulled in at the next gas station and loaded himself up with coffee and muffins, drinking and eating as he drove, hoping the sugar and caffeine would be enough to keep him going. 

The sun was well up by the time he found the narrow dirt road and turned into it, driving slowly to negotiate the bumps and potholes. It seemed to take much longer this time, but eventually he came to a halt in front of the sign he knew so well: St Sebastian's. 

He got out of the truck - or rather, almost fell out of it, and made his way up the path - but before he could get there, Brother Jeremy came out of the building and walked towards him, his surprise evident on his face. 

'Why Detective Ellison, what a surprise. It's good to see you.' 

Jim shook the monk's hand and pasted a smile on his face. 'Good to see you, too, Brother Jeremy. How have things been?' 

'We're all well, and as you can see, Saint Sebastian's is flourishing again. Is Blair not with you?' 

'Er, no, not this time. Actually, that's why I'm here.' 

'Oh? Nothing bad has happened to him, I hope?' 

'No, no he's, um fine. But I was wondering, would you mind if I had a word to Brother Marcus?' 

Jeremy's gaze hardened a little, but with genuine concern. 'It's not that other business again, is it?' 

'No, trust me, it's nothing like that. I just need to talk to him about something. It's important.' 

'Well, I can see that - you're just about falling on your feet with exhaustion.' Jeremy took his elbow and drew him to an old seat under a huge shady tree. 'Wait here and I'll find Marcus for you.' 

Jim sat when he would rather have gone with the older monk - but he knew better than to try. Instead, he put his elbows on his knees and bowed his head down, hoping to stretch his neck out. 

He felt ill, a little dizzy and a serious, mature headache was approaching from his left temple. So far his senses were okay, but he knew that was just a matter of time. The one thing he knew for sure was capable of sending his senses off the chart was a prolonged period of exhaustion, and he was fast approaching that point right now. 

'Detective?' 

Jim lifted his head, almost too quickly, and got to his feet. 'Brother Marcus. It's good to see you. Thank you for speaking with me.' 

Marcus waved his hand in dismissal. Instead, he tugged Jim's arm until they both sat on the bench together. 'Jeremy suggested this was about Blair. Please tell me nothing's happened to him?' 

'No, I...' Jim came to a halt, staring into blue-grey eyes he'd never really studied before. 'Actually, I don't really know. I haven't seen Blair for over a year. That's why I'm here. I was hoping... well, that you might know where I could find him.' 

Marcus sat back, frowning. 'You haven't seen him for a year? And only now you've come to tell me this?' 

'It's... complicated,' Jim swallowed lacing his fingers together. 'There's a lot of stuff I can't tell you about. He left, needed some time on his own, to get his head together. I wanted to give him that, it was his life after all, his choice to go.' 

'And now?' 

Jim had the distinct feeling he was being tested and he didn't enjoy it at all. He stood up and paced away a little. 'Now it's my choice to find him.' 

'Have you considered that his not returning is a sign that he doesn't want to be found?' 

Jim struggled to keep his patience. That headache was kicking in now, swiping at him viciously every time he opened his mouth. He didn't have time for this now. And he couldn't wait any longer. He had to find Blair. He just _had_ to - no matter what happened. 

'Trust me, Brother Marcus, I've considered everything. But I'm asking you, hell, I'm ready to get down on my knees and beg you - if you know where he is, please tell me.' 

Marcus studied him for a moment, then got carefully to his feet. He put his hands into his sleeves and nodded. 'I tell you what, Detective. I have to go Chapel now, and I'll be gone about an hour. Why don't you go into the dormitory, find your old room and get some rest. When I come back, we'll talk again. I know you're in a hurry, but you need to understand, I've given a solemn vow of silence, and I can't break that without a lot of prayer.' 

Jim would have protested, but he knew it'd do no good. So he nodded, 'Okay. Same cell? Right through there?' 

'Through that door and turn right.' Marcus patted his shoulder and then headed off to the chapel. Only then did Jim hear the bells that had been ringing for the last few minutes. 

Yeah, he definitely needed some rest. 

* * *

Jim woke to the sound of another bell ringing. He sat up slowly and looked out the window, but the light was all wrong. Damn, how long had he slept? 

He found a towel, soap and a razor sitting on the chair by the door. Other than that, he was surrounded by silence. Not a single voice was speaking. 

He'd slept through the day and the night as well. It was the following morning and the brothers were now into their vow of silence. He would have to wait until it was over before he could speak to Marcus. 

He got up, collected the towel and headed out to the bathroom. He took a long shower, enjoying the steaming hot water and the incredible quiet. Back in his room, he tidied up then went outside to walk until he heard the next bell, ending the vow. 

Turning back for the monastery, he found Marcus marching towards him, a smile on his face. 'So, how are you this morning? Feeling any better?' 

'Much. But you shouldn't have let me sleep.' 

'I couldn't wake you. I tried three times and gave up in the end. Sometimes, all a man needs is a good solid sleep.' 

'Perhaps,' Jim nodded, desperate for an answer, but now afraid to ask for it. 

Marcus took pity on him. 'I want you to know, I'm not doing this lightly.' He held out a piece of paper for Jim to take. 'You can find him there, though I don't have the exact address. He only gave me a post office box, but he was there last week when he wrote and didn't express any plans to move anytime soon.' 

Jim opened the paper and read the name of the town, including the box number. Then he looked up. 'How long has he been there?' 

'Since last July, I think. It seems he's working in a bar by the beach. I get the impression he's quite content with life.' 

'So why did you decide to give this to me?' 

Marcus shrugged, 'Because he's on a journey, and you're a necessary part of it, whether he likes it or not. Because coming to terms with failure means facing up to those you failed.' 

'He didn't fail me.' Marcus said nothing, and Jim flushed a little. 'Oh, you mean, I failed him. Well, you're right, I did.' 

'What are you going to do?' 

'I'm going to tell him the truth.' 

'Do you know what that is?' 

Jim nodded, 'Yeah, I think I might. Look, Brother Marcus, thanks for this. I really appreciate it. I better get going.' 

'Are you sure you don't want to stay for breakfast?' 

'I can get something on the road.' With a nod, Jim turned and started for the truck, but then he paused and turned around to find Marcus still standing there, watching him. On impulse, he said, 'You're his father, aren't you?' 

Marcus said nothing, but his eyes twinkled a little. 

'Does he know?' 

'I think perhaps deep down he does.' 

'But you've never said anything.' 

'Sometimes,' Marcus murmured, 'we can only see a truth when we're ready to. Do you think he was ready to know?' 

Jim shook his head, 'No, probably not.' 

Marcus gave him a nod and smiled, 'When he is, I'll be here and we'll talk.' 

Matching the smile, Jim put the piece of paper in his pocket close to his heart. 'I'm glad it's you. And he'll be glad it's you as well.' 

'I hope you're right. Now go. He needs you.' Marcus raised a hand then, and turned back for the chapel. Jim watched him go, then walked to the truck, already fishing into his jacket for his cell phone. 

He dialed the number and got through while he was trying to negotiate the bumpy dirt track. 

'Simon? It's me. I need some time off.' 

'Jim? What's wrong? How much time?' 

'I don't know, a couple weeks, maybe.' 

'Oh, hell, Jim, I've already lost Connor. Can't it wait?' 

'No, sir, it can't. I've got an address. I'm going to find Sandburg.' 

There was a pause as Simon obviously gathered his thoughts. 'Are you sure that's such a good idea. I get the impression the kid doesn't want to know us any more. You could be making a big mistake.' 

'I don't care any more. Please, Simon, I need the time.' 

He could almost hear Simon grinding his teeth in frustration, but as Jim had known he would, he gave a grunt and said, 'Okay, okay, fine. You have two weeks.' 

'Thanks, Simon. I'll make it up to you.' 

'You'd better.' 

Jim cut the connection and tossed the phone onto the seat beside him. Though his insides were tumbling around with terror, he actually felt good, great. Awake, alert, his senses firing on all thrusters. Hadn't felt this good since, well, since before the dissertation fiasco. So that had to be a good thing, right? 

He turned onto the highway and headed south back to Cascade. He'd stop at home long enough to pack a bag, grab his surf board and empty out the fridge. Then he would hit the road and not stop until he reached Encinitas, CA. 

* * *

Thick restless clouds tumbled across the night sky, alternatively revealing and then hiding the half moon. The confusion gave Jim the cover he needed. He wanted to stay out of sight until he was sure, until he was ready. So he hid in his shadows against the south wall of Dougall's Bar, grounded himself by pressing his hands against the wooden boards, and let his hearing reach out, sorting through the noise of the bar, the music, the clinking of glasses and laughter of unknowing people. 

It had taken him five days to get this far. He'd hardly slept on the drive down, but getting to Encinitas had only been half the problem. Actually finding Blair among the huge collection of bars and restaurants which lined over six miles of coastline hadn't been easy. But finally, an hour ago, he'd been given a name, and an address and here he was, plastered against the wall of a building that might actually contain the man he had waited so long for. 

Dougall's Bar had been fairly easy to find, once he'd got good directions. It sat on the northern edge of a long slice of cliff above Swami's Beach. The Bar itself stood alone on a small promontory, the cliff edge no more than fifty yards away. Towards the road there was nothing more than the narrow driveway, and a flat expanse of close-mown grass. 

The loud crash of a door sent his hearing spiking and he pushed his hands against his ears to block it all out. He breathed deeply for a few moments, struggling to get it under control, but it was leery, skittish like a young colt, wary of the restless weather. 

He breathed again, forcing calm. 

He had to know. 

Had to know if Blair was in there first, needed to hear his voice. And after that? Well, he had no idea what he was going to do next because it hadn't been until he'd arrived in Encinitas that he'd actually begun to wonder what Blair was doing with his life now - in a realistic way. Marcus had said he seemed content, which was good, great in fact. But what else was there? Was he with somebody? Alone? Would he welcome Jim, or send him away without a word? 

But such thoughts did him no good now when all he wanted was control over his hearing. So he closed his eyes and tried again, more slowly this time, more carefully, as he'd been taught. Taking each sound as it came to him, cataloging it, then setting it aside as unneeded. 

And then he heard something, a shouted confirmation. 

'Blair? I'm going to bring more ice up, okay?' 

And the response he longed to hear, 'No, you stay there, Daisy. I'll go.' 

That was it. The exchange was over and Jim, wired tight with tension since Marcus had given him that note days ago, sank back against the wall, gasping for air, hardly able to believe what he'd just heard. 

He re-ran the moment in his head two or three times before he heard it: Blair didn't sound content at all. Quite the opposite. He sounded miserable. 

Jim started forward out of his shadows, but suddenly, without warning he heard Blair's voice again, joking with somebody, following it up with a throaty chuckle. Then there were what sounded like shouted instructions to somebody called Dean and a greeting to somebody else called Rollo. Jim caught more bits and pieces of conversations, building an image in his mind. Blair was indeed content here, well-known, liked. He knew people, had friends, was comfortable with their company. 

Melting into the shadows again, Jim took stock. There was little point in him going inside right now. Blair was busy and probably wouldn't appreciate having this ghost from his past appear in the middle of it. So he would have to wait. As much as he needed sleep, he wouldn't be able to go to bed until he'd actually seen Blair, his guide, his best friend. The man he loved. 

Jim looked up as the moon reappeared again, suddenly calm, suddenly ready to wait as long as it took. Blair was only yards away from him now and soon, they would talk. Beyond that lay only hope. 

* * *

One minute it was dark, the next, brilliant sunshine seared across his face, making him grimace and put up his hands to ward off the light. Pain plummeted into him as he struggled to his feet and opened his eyes a crack. 

It was morning. He'd fallen asleep in his corner, hidden from bar patrons as they'd left the night before. And now he was awake, feeling like crap with a fresh new sun grating across his senses like nails across a blackboard. 

Panic struck him then, as he opened up his hearing, desperate to know if he'd missed something important, if Blair had seen him and vanished again, but relief sank into him immediately as he heard that beloved voice once more, coming from inside. 

'If you're sure. I'll be back in about an hour, then. Sea's as flat as a tack this morning, so I doubt we'll have much in the way of breakfast business today.' 

'Enjoy your run.' This was a woman's voice, making Jim pause a moment. And then there were other sounds, of a door at the front of the building being unlocked, windows pushed aside, and then footsteps on the close-cut grass. 

Then nothing. 

His heart thumping in his chest, Jim walked slowly forward, following the wall until he could see better. There was a fenced in garden filled with chairs and tables, then another few yards before the edge of the cliff. Standing in the centre of it was a white wooden staircase obviously leading to the beach. 

He stretched his hearing again and now picked up steady footsteps going down. Blair was going for a run on the beach. 

For a moment, Jim contemplated following him, but a night spent curled up on a doorstep had left him feeling creaky and old. If he headed back to his hotel and took a shower, he could be back here in time for Blair to return from his run. 

The time seemed endless as he drove four miles up the highway, as he scrubbed himself awake, as he guzzled down a cup of instant coffee and a dry donut. But he was clean and dressed, and about as ready as he could be by the time he got back into the truck and made for Dougall's Bar. 

He walked up the lane slowly, keeping his hearing open in case Blair had come back early - but there was no sign of him. Only the woman working away inside the bar. He caught a glimpse of her through the French windows Blair had opened and allowed a moment for his heart to sink. She was a goddess. Just the kind of woman Blair had always gone for - tall, beautiful, fit, tanned, capable and efficient. 

But Jim didn't even consider leaving. 

He hovered for a moment, tossing up whether to go inside and order a coffee to give him something to do while he waited, but instead, opted for the stairs and the beach. Perhaps they'd both be better off without an audience for this meeting. 

It was a stunning morning, and as he headed down the stairs, he couldn't help but admire the view. He'd heard of Swami's Beach and years back he'd talked with army buddies about the prospect of surfing it. Wouldn't do any good today of course, with a sea like glass, tipping tiny waves onto a stretch of perfect flat sand. Sandburg could certainly pick his places, that much was certain. 

He reached the bottom and put his feet onto hard sand. The tide was out as he walked away from the cliff a little, straining to look in both directions for any sign of Blair. There was nothing. So he began walking. 

One of the things he'd always loved about surfing was the utter peace of it. Unless the waves were crowded with surfers, there was nothing out there to be bothered about. There was just the wave and him, one force of nature up against another. Exercise without thought, the ease and glide of the stick through the water was as soft and sensuous as the touch of his hand across a woman's skin. It was a pastime he missed - and one which, in that split second, he vowed to take up again. 

'J-Jim?' 

He froze, heart suddenly thumping, making him feel like he was going to collapse. Then slowly he turned around to find Blair ten feet away, red-faced with running, a glistening sheen of sweat covering his cheeks, strands of loose hair black with the moisture. He was breathing heavily, but Jim couldn't tell if that was from the running or seeing him. 

In that second, Jim's senses rose within him, spiking one after the other so quickly it left him dizzy. They tumbled together, crashing into each other before, seconds later, settling back to normal. He had just enough time to gather himself before Blair actually spoke. 

'What are you doing here?' 

As far as welcomes went, it fell a little short of what Jim, in his wildest dreams, had hoped for. Blair didn't close the distance between them, and instead, filled his voice with a sternness Jim had never heard from him before. 

He'd had days to think about what he would say next, which was a good thing as it turned out, because his brain felt largely fried. All he wanted to do was sweep Blair up into his arms and never let go - but it looked like that wasn't going to happen soon. 

'You called,' he began firmly. 'You called the loft. You wanted to speak to me. You didn't call back, so I came.' 

Blair blinked at him, then took a corner of his t-shirt to wipe over his face. 'Yeah, well, I changed my mind.' 

When Blair moved to dismiss him and return to the cliff, Jim stopped him with more prepared words. 'Why? Because somebody else answered the phone?' 

Blair raised his eyebrows. 'Is that why you're here? To introduce me to him?' 

'No, I'm here because I wanted to know why you called.' 

With a sigh, Blair looked away, as though already exhausted by this conversation. 'It hardly matters any more, does it?' 

'Of course it matters!' Jim snapped and walked forward until there was only a few feet separating them. He could see the struggle on Blair's face, the indecision over whether he should back away or not. In the end, he kept his place, allowing Jim close enough to read his expression better. 'Why wouldn't it matter? It's been more than a year, Blair. You honestly think I wouldn't want to talk to you after all this time? I ... I slept on the ground last night, outside your bar because I didn't dare leave in case you slipped through my fingers again, so yes, Goddamit, it does matter!' 

Blair frowned in genuine confusion. 'Why do you care? You've got a great life now, exactly what you wanted. So maybe you missed me early on, but let's get real here, Jim, it's all been over a long time. Why this sudden urgency to find out why I called? Especially since that was, what six weeks ago now?' 

'I only found out a few days ago.' 

'Yeah, well you weren't supposed to find out at all.' Blair turned then, began walking back to the steps, but he stopped and faced Jim again. 'How did you find me?' 

'I went to see Brother Marcus.' 

Blair swore and stormed off, 'Damnit, he promised me he wouldn't tell you! Wouldn't tell anyone! Can't even get a monk to keep a damned secret!' 

Jim hurried after him, 'Why does it bother you if it's all long over, as you insist? If this is all meaningless to you, what difference does it make if I'm here?' 

Blair stopped on the stairs above and whirled to face him. 'It _doesn't_ make a difference, Jim. We used to be friends. We used to be sentinel and guide. But we're _not_ any more. So please, say whatever it is you need to say and go home to your boyfriend.' 

Dropping his voice a little, Jim met the aggrieved gaze and murmured, 'There's no boyfriend.' 

His statement was met with a blank expression, but Blair blinked a few times more than necessary before he lifted his chin. 'So?' 

'So...' Jim spread his hands, throwing away the script. 'Can we ... just talk? Please?' 

Blair simply stared at him a moment, then shook head in disbelief and began stomping up the stairs again - but there'd been no rejection, so Jim followed behind, resolutely not gazing up at the view of his ex-partner's rear. 

Blair had already gone inside by the time Jim got to the top. Deciding to give him a few moments of space, Jim took a table outside in the sun and sat down. He was here now and more importantly, so was Blair. Beyond that, he would just have to play it by ear. 

* * *

The stairs creaked under Blair's feet as he ran up to the apartment, cursing under his breath until he remembered that Jim would probably be listening. Without pausing, he crashed through the door and slammed it shut behind him, for a moment, unable to do anything but gasp in air and try to control the trembling that had overtaken his body. 

_Jim_ was here. 

Nope, he couldn't control the trembling. Maybe there was something wrong with him, like maybe he'd contracted Parkinson's while he'd been out running and now it was taking over, and he'd never know another moment's stillness for the rest of his life. 

Jim _was_ here. 

He gulped in another breath and held it, desperate, needing to hold onto something, anything, it didn't matter what. Because no matter what else happened when he went back downstairs, he simply couldn't afford to let Jim know what he was feeling. 

Of course, there was little danger of Jim guessing - since Blair himself had no idea. 

The trembling slowed a little and blinking hard, he headed for the shower, stripping off his clothes as he went. But he had to hurry because if he didn't, Jim might decide to change his mind and leave before Blair had really even had a chance to look at him, and god, how he wanted to, how he _needed_ to, and ... and ... 

Dear god, Jim was _here_! 

The water felt good on his skin but the usual heat was too much for him, too much heat so he turned it down and for the first time in his life, actually welcomed the cold water as it slid calmingly over his flesh. He pressed his forehead to the tiles and closed his eyes. 

Why was Jim here? And what was he supposed to think about that? How was he supposed to feel? 

For that matter - how _did_ he feel about it? 

Blair opened his eyes and straightened up, pausing for a moment before reaching for the shampoo. 

How did he feel? Surprised, yeah, and shocked. Okay, so that was easy. What else? Scared? Yep, another no-brainer. 

And what else? 

Pleased. 

He paused again as the water washed away the shampoo. Yeah, he had to admit it to himself that he was pleased Jim was here. Not sure whether he was pleased that Jim had actually come to find him, but pleased that he was _here_. 

So okay, maybe that was enough for the moment. Maybe it was enough to get him downstairs and so he could sit and look at the man who'd haunted his life for more than a year. A man who was no longer a ghost. 

Yeah, maybe he could do this. 

Maybe. 

* * *

A couple of minutes after Jim sat down, the goddess emerged from the kitchen with a tray laden with cups and other interesting stuff. 

'Hi, I'm Daisy.' She greeted with a stunning smile. 'Blair said you'd appreciate some coffee. I also have some fresh rolls inside if you'd like one.' 

'Thanks, that's very kind of you.' 

'No problem. I'll be right back. Blair's upstairs taking a shower. He won't be long.' 

'Upstairs?' 

Daisy turned and pointed to the small balcony above the main bar and the huge windows beyond it. 'He lives in the manager's apartment up there. The owner doesn't like the place being left empty at night, not with all the surfers we get around here.' 

'You're a surfer?' 

She gave him another blinding smile. 'How'd you guess? That's why I took this job. Hoping to go pro next year.' 

'Good luck with that. Tell me, is Swami's as good as I've heard?' 

'Sure, it's fantastic - well, except for days like today. But come back at dawn tomorrow, and you'll see something. You surf?' 

'Haven't for a couple of years, but I'm hoping to have a shot while I'm here.' 

'Cool.' Daisy glanced inside a moment, then leaned down to whisper, 'You're a friend, from before he came here?' 

'Uh, yeah. Why?' 

'Well, it's just, I hope you can help him, you know? He's been a little quiet lately and he won't talk about it. He's just-' 

'Daisy!' Blair's call of warning was enough to make her straighten up and turn with one of her trademark smiles. Blair was still inside the bar, but with the windows open, could obviously hear everything they were saying. 

'Yes, boss? Your friend was just ordering some scrambled eggs to go with his roll. Can I get you some, too?' 

Blair took the jug of juice that was sitting on the bar, along with a couple of glasses and came outside, his hair still wet from the shower. 'Eggs no, rolls yes. And remember what I said about not hitting on the patrons.' 

'Aw, boss,' Daisy laughed. 'You take all the fun out of this job.' With that, she turned and leapt up the two stairs to the kitchen door. 

Jim turned back to find Blair pouring them juice. He took the opportunity study his friend. Blair's hair was longer and almost blonde in places, while the rest was a couple of shades lighter than the usual dark auburn - all of which was visible even though the hair was still wet. His skin was tanned a glorious honey brown, while the tight t-shirt he wore emphasized a lean body considerably more bulky with muscle than Jim recalled. 

In short, Blair pretty much filled the bill as every man's wet dream. 

That thought, he had to admit to himself, made him a little uncomfortable, but he said nothing as they waited for Daisy to return with breakfast. She did so quickly, laying out the table with fresh rolls, steaming eggs, butter, jelly and sliced apples. She gave them both a smile before disappearing back inside, leaving them alone. 

Jim sprinkled salt onto his eggs before tucking in. 'Mmn, good.' 

'The rolls are fresh-baked this morning. Dean makes up the dough the night before and we just put them into the oven. They're a specialty of the house.' 

Jim nodded and reached for one, glancing up to find Blair nibbling on a slice of apple. 'So, you haven't called Joel for a while.' 

'No.' 

'Why? You're not interested in how everyone is?' 

'Yeah, I am. I've just been a little busy.' Blair looked up, meeting Jim's gaze with a challenge. 'So?' 

'The guys are all fine. Simon's applying for a promotion to Deputy Chief. He's not sure he'll get it, but he figures, don't ask don't get.' 

Blair simply nodded, as though only half listening to what Jim was saying. 

Jim continued, 'And three weeks ago, Megan got married.' 

That broke Blair's preoccupation. His eyebrows rose and the first faint smile Jim had seen graced his face. 'Really? Do I know the guy?' 

'Yeah,' Jim grunted. 'My brother.' 

'Wow! Joel mentioned they'd been dating. That must have come as a shock to your Dad.' 

'Tell me about it. And of course, the other news is that they're expecting a baby in a few months.' 

That brought Blair to a halt. He put his slice of apple down and looked away, out to sea. He was silent so long, Jim almost asked what was wrong. Then Blair came back to him, attentive, but his voice held a hard and bitter tone. 

'Well, the chances are only twenty-five percent that the kid will have the senses, I guess. And while I theorized it was unlikely they'd manifest badly in a prepubescent child, that was mainly guesswork, so they'll need to be vigilant, especially when it goes onto solid food. You had your senses when you were about ten, so it's possible they'd manifest in a young child. You should probably dig out my old notes and go through them. There's a lot of stuff in there about allergies and drug sensitivities Megan'll probably need to know before they're beset with all those childhood illnesses. And, um, she'll also have to be careful what she takes for the birth. She might have to bite the bullet and go all natural. There's no telling what effect an epidural will have on an infant sentinel. Look, I'll write a few notes down you can take back with you. I'll have them ready before you leave.' 

Blair got to his feet, his expression completely shuttered. 'Enjoy your breakfast. I'll see you later.' 

'Wait,' Jim stood, a hand reaching out to prevent Blair from leaving but he stopped just short of actually touching. 'What's this? One minute we're trying to have a conversation and the next, you're ready to shut me out again?' Blair wouldn't look at him, so he pushed harder. 'You really think I came all the way down here to ask you about the baby? Damnit, Chief, I was just giving you the news. Sure, Megan will be happy to have the advice, but that's not why I'm here. Please, sit, okay?' 

It took a long, tense minute before Blair would resume his seat. Jim waited until he was settled before regaining his own. As Blair kept his gaze down, Jim just stared at him, shaking his head slightly. Then he whispered, 'Did I really hurt you that much?' 

The question startled Blair enough to make him flinch. Then he gave a sniff and looked up, but not at Jim. 'This is really not a good idea, Jim. I mean it. All this stuff is just water under the bridge. There's no point in hashing through it. It's over and we need to move on. You've done that, you need to let me do it too.' 

'Okay,' Jim nodded, pouring them both more coffee. 'But have you considered that maybe my being here is what you need to help you move on?' 

'Oh, man, just ... just ... oh, fuck!' Blair buried his face in his hands and doubled over. 'Great. Now you think I haven't moved on! Got any more surprises up your sleeve I should know about?' 

'Maybe,' Jim smiled a little. He knew this Blair, knew that they'd probably both had enough for the moment. 'Listen, do you have to work today?' 

Blair just moaned into his hands, but it was a moan of frustration rather than pain. He sat up, pushed his hair back from his face and took two large swallows of coffee before wiping his mouth. 'Yeah, sure. I have to work every day except Mondays.' 

Jim tore off a piece of fresh roll, buttered it and handed it to Blair. Glancing at Jim, Blair took it and shoved it into his mouth. While he chewed, Jim continued. 'I was just thinking, if you could get a few hours off, we could maybe take a drive up the coast. Have lunch or something.' 

Blair's gaze didn't shift from him as he finished his mouthful and swallowed. Then he said, 'I have to work.' 

Jim just buttered more bread and handed it to him. 'But I heard you say it was going to be quiet today, with the sea so flat. Could you get somebody in to cover you?' 

Taking the third piece of bread from him, Blair popped it into his mouth then washed it down with some juice. He looked down at his hands before he said, 'You're not just going to go away, are you?' 

'Nope.' 

'Well, okay. But not for lunch. We still get passing trade from the cliff top walking track and it won't quiet down until about three. We could go for a couple of hours then, but I have to be back no later than five.' 

Inside, Jim wanted to jump up and down with glee - but he refrained from displaying anything like it on his face. 'How many hours a day do you work?' 

'Most of 'em - including right now. Look, give me a little time, okay? I mean, you knew you were coming down here. You've had at least a few days to think about all this - I've had an hour. Go take a walk through town, entertain yourself until this afternoon. I'll be ready at three.' 

Blair got to his feet then, shrugging slightly before his gaze rose again to meet Jim's. 'It's good to see you, Jim.' 

With that, he turned and went inside, leaving Jim alone in the only way he could cope with these day. 

* * *

Blair spent the day burying himself in work, serving the lunchtime trade, the surfers, the families out for the fresh sea air, the ramblers stopping in for a tea and Dean's fresh-made muffins. He focused on what he was doing, using every spare moment to remind himself that he could do this, that he could weather Jim's visit without falling apart, or falling back on old, dreadful habits. That he would be ready when Jim turned up at three and maybe even have a few answers to give him. 

But fate of course, conspiring against him in an entirely mean and vicious nature, decided otherwise. For a start, it began to rain about midday, not just a soft patter, but a thick, heavy determined avalanche of rain that obliterated the skyline and sent Blair upstairs for a sweater. By the time Jim appeared at the kitchen door three hours later frowning under an umbrella, Blair was in fact ankle deep in filthy water, covered in grime, running around said kitchen pulling boxes and sacks off the floor while Dean, on his hands and knees beside the dishwasher, swore like the old sailor that he was. 

'What happened?' Jim demanded immediately, tugging the door open. He stayed outside while he pulled off his boots and socks and rolled up his jeans. 

Blair could only glance at him as he dragged a crate of oranges out of the corner to shove them onto the only remaining countertop not already stacked with food. 'Came in here ten minutes ago to find water all over the floor. It's flooding and I don't know where from.' 

'It stinks,' Jim grunted, running his hands down beside the dishwasher feeling for a leak. 'Could be the grease trap backing up.' 

'Grease trap?' Blair almost squawked. 'What the hell's a grease trap?' 

Jim withdrew from the dishwasher and sat back on his haunches. 'It's a trap for grease. Water from the washer has to go through it before it gets to the drains. Now and then it silts up and water heads back up the pipe.' 

'Fuck,' Blair swore, grabbing a mop and bucket. 'I'll never get a plumber at this hour on a Sunday. We have forty people booked for dinner tonight, not counting the passing trade. There's no way we can afford to close up this late in the game. Is there any way we can fix it?' Blair turned as he heard Daisy come through from the bar. 'Any luck?' 

'Nope. Called every one I could find in the directory. They're either already out - _everybody's_ drains are overflowing with this rain - or they don't do callouts on the weekend. Either way, we're on our own.' 

'Great.' Blair grunted, then gestured to Daisy. 'Go to the linen press and pull out all the green towels, all the old ones. Pile them up across the door here. We need to restrict the flow into the bar. Then go down to the cellar and see if there's any seepage. Anything that can be damaged by the water needs to be put up off the floor or covered in plastic.' 

'Done.' Daisy disappeared into the bar. 

'Chief?' 

Blair whirled back around, unable to hide the frisson of pleasure hearing the old nickname gave him. 'What? Is there something you can do?' 

'We need to turn off the water main. That'll slow the flow in here and maybe stop it while we find the grease trap.' 

'Um, yeah, water main. It's outside.' 

Jim nodded, the faintest hint of a smile on his face. 'Any chance you can find me a shovel?' 

Dean climbed to his feet and headed into the pantry. 'There's one in here. I use it for the wood fire oven.' 

Jim went to the door, shovel in hand and pulled off his sweater before stepping outside. Blair followed him to the door, watching as he made his careful way to the mains in bare feet, and two inches of rainwater sitting above the grass. He twisted off the faucet then turned back to Blair, already drenched to the skin. 'How's that? Any change?' 

'Dean, any change?' 

The older man was nodding. 'Yeah, it's slowing. I'll start cleaning up. We might be in luck.' 

Blair turned back to Jim, torn between working on the inside, and leaving Jim to fix this on the outside. 'Jim?' He called, 'What next?' 

Jim stood just in the lee of the building, only partly sheltered, his rain-soaked shirt clinging to his skin, leaving a clear outline of his solid frame. He looked around a moment, then turned back to Blair, his voice raised over the noise of the rain on the tin roof. 'I don't suppose you have a set of plans for the building, do you?' 

'No, sorry. The owner has them.' Blair paused a moment longer, then took the plunge and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. Dean and Daisy could look after the overflow. The important thing at this point was to stop more coming in. He came up behind Jim to find him turning around in surprise. 

'What are you doing?' He shouted over the rain. 'You'll freeze to death.' 

'I'm fine. What are we looking for?' 

'This is the wet side of the building, where all the water and pipes are. That means all the plumbing is going to run below ground somewhere between here and that fence. The grease trap will be about two feet by two feet square. It should have an accessible pit lid, but if it hasn't been maintained properly, it'll be overgrown and invisible, especially with this rain. This could take hours, Chief. Maybe you should go inside and start making some calls.' 

'I can't. Most people don't leave numbers when they book. Hey, are you telling me that after all this time you can't find something like an indentation in the grass? Didn't I teach you better than that?' 

'Sure you did, Chief,' Jim grinned. 'But I don't remember us doing any tests in the rain.' 

'No, well, okay, maybe not, but how different can it be?' 

Jim turned to him, then tipped his head to one side and nodded. 'What do you suggest?' 

'Hang on.' Blair carefully stepped back to the wall and along the flooded concrete path around the corner until he reached a small covered switch box. With a flick, he turned on the outside lights. Jim joined him. 'Look for a difference in the angle of deflection, Jim.' 

'Angle of deflection? What the hell is that?' 

Blair grabbed his arm and pointed to a section of grass clearly lit by the floodlights. 'See how the rain hits the ground and bounces - angle of deflection. If the grass is flat, all the bounced rain goes up in the same direction. If there's a defined section of the grass that's sitting below the rest, the angle of deflection will be noticeably different.' 

'Oh, I get it.' Jim nodded. He moved along the wall then crouched down to get a better look across the lawn. Blair stayed where he was, wrapping his arms around his body, hoping Jim wouldn't notice him shivering. 

They got rain like this now and then. About once a month a huge dark front would come in from the ocean and pummel the coastline for a few hours before drifting back out to sea. Though it couldn't yet be four in the afternoon, it was almost completely dark. 

'Hey, Chief, you got that shovel?' 

'You found it?' 

'Maybe. Won't know until I dig.' 

Blair made his way over, using the shovel as a stick to steady himself. Jim took it from him and began digging a small hole about two foot from the fence. After a minute or so, Blair heard a solid thud. Jim made the hole bigger until he'd revealed the wide flat surface of a pit lid. Blair moved in then, crouching down beside the lid as Jim worked to lever an edge free. It rose slowly, and as Blair got his fingers under it, he tried desperately not to think about what they were touching. 

He almost let go it was so heavy - but then Jim dropped the shovel and slid down beside him, grabbing the lid so they could hoist it away together. 

'Oh, shit,' Jim swore, falling back onto the soaked grass with a hand to his face. 'That ... smell!' 

'Dial it down, Jim.' Blair gasped, looking around for inspiration. 'Okay, it's disgusting and it's full. No, I take that back - it's _really_ disgusting. I guess that means we need to empty it out.' 

'Right,' Jim, still squinting, sat up again. 'We need something to scoop it into.' 

Blair nodded. 'Back in a second.' He got up and headed straight for the garden shed in the back corner of the property. They kept the lawn mower and edge trimmer in there. He was sure he'd seen some empty tubs they could use. 

He struggled with the bolt for a moment, then finally got it open. There was no light inside, so he had to feel his way forward until his hands landed on the tubs. Fortunately, they were empty and he hauled them out into the rain, his fingers now almost freezing. He kicked the door closed and dragged the tubs back to Jim. 

Immediately Jim lifted the shovel and began to scoop the revolting mess into one of the tubs so Blair headed back to the shed and rummaged around until he found a small hand trowel. Gritting his teeth, he made for the grease trap, got down on his knees and began scooping. 

'Jeez,' he swore, trying to breathe through his mouth. This would have to be the most putrid thing he'd ever smelled in his life - and that included some very fermented cesspits on his field trips into the jungle. 

'Dial it down, Chief.' 

Blair could hear the laughter in Jim's voice and scowled up at him. 'Yeah, laugh it up, big guy.' That did make Jim chuckle, and the sound brought a grin to Blair's face. 'All things considered, I think I'd rather have spent the day on the beach, talking to you.' 

'Well,' Jim grunted, scooping grunge out and tipping it into a tub, 'just goes to show there's worse things in the world than talking to me.' 

'You think?' Blair glanced up, taking in the dripping shirt, the jeans covered in slimy mud and grease, the bare feet almost black with mud. Even looking like this the man was gorgeous. 'Picture the comparison, Jim - you don't come off lightly.' 

'Believe it or not, Chief,' Jim chimed back, 'I've been compared to worse things than an overflowing grease trap.' 

Blair laughed. 

The trap was nearly empty by the time Jim called a halt. 

'Is that it?' Blair climbed to his feet, trying to wipe his hands clean on his jeans. It didn't help much, so instead, he kind of washed them on the grass two inches deep in water. It was still pouring with rain, drops coming down in sheets the obscured the edge of the cliff and the entire ocean beyond. 

'Afraid not. There's nothing coming down the pipe from the kitchen. That means there's a blockage. Probably been backing up for months and the rain was the last straw. The overflow can't just seep into the ground with the soil soaked with water.' 

'So what now?' 

Jim met his gaze, his grimace more than visible in the floodlights. 'We need to expose the pipes, pull each one up until we find the blockage. If we had a plumber here, he could put down a high pressure hose to clear the pipe. But since we're on our own, we get to do it the hard way.' 

Blair just shook his head. 'Fine. Lead on, Macduff.' 

As Jim took up the shovel again and began digging on the building side of the pit, Blair asked, 'Hey, where did you learn all this stuff about plumbing?' 

'Our first house, the one before the big white mansion, was built on clay soil. We had endless trouble with drainage before Dad got sick of it and sold it. I was six or seven. Used to love playing in the trenches dug all over the back yard. Great fun.' 

'Jeez,' Blair grunted, half-laughing. 'You think you know somebody.' 

'Says the man who played Superman flying on the back of the toilet.' 

Blair gave Jim's arm a swat. 'I'll be back in a minute. See if I can't find another shovel.' 

* * *

'There, what's that?' Blair pointed to a section of newly exposed pipe and looked up at Jim. 'Is that cracked?' 

Immediately Jim crouched down beside him and peered at the pipe. He nodded, 'Yeah, looks like it. It's old clay pipe. Looks like a piece broke and fell in. That'll do it every time. You got that trowel, Chief?' 

'That's okay, I got it.' Blair sat down straight in the mud and slid himself forward until he had a foot either side of the pipe. The trench was only a couple of feet deep, but it was half-full of water, and potentially quite dangerous. He'd long since given up thinking how disgusting his feet felt soaked with slimy water and squelching every time he put his foot down. It was right up there with the clingy dripping jeans and shirt he wore, not to mention the sweater that was now so heavy with water that it slapped against his legs every time he moved. 

Using the trowel, he scraped away the rest of the mud from the offending pipe, until he finally revealed the damage. 'Yep, big piece fallen in. Man, I hate this job.' 

'You might be able to clear it with the trowel.' 

'Yeah, I'm trying. It's stuck... big chunks of something - no, wait, it's coming loose.' Blair almost bit his lip, digging away at the damned thing, unable to see anything in this light, warmed now only by his constant exertions. The rain hadn't let up at all, and he didn't even want to think how dirty they both were by now - nor about the massive cold they were both going to get in the morning. 

Great. He spends a whole year wishing he could just be with Jim for a little while - and what do they end up doing? This was so not his idea of a dream date. Not even his idea of a nightmare date, come to think of it. 

Not that Jim had come here talking of dating or anything - but hell, he'd been working alongside Blair for over an hour now, with at least the top part of his body competing in a wet t-shirt competition. Was he really supposed to just pretend he couldn't see all that amazing definition, pretend he wasn't still hopelessly attracted to this man - not to mention also hopelessly in love? 

Why did people always say _hopelessly_ in love? Wasn't there _any_ chance of hope in love? 

Suddenly the blockage came free and immediately began sliding down the pipe towards the grease trap. There was just enough light to see a slick, oily fluid instantly begin to follow it, heading downhill. 

'Well done, Chief.' Jim was standing over by the trap. 'The blockage has come through and the flow is normal.' He looked up with a grin, 'I think the patient will live.' 

'Hey, I'm a miracle worker.' Exhausted, but incredibly relieved, he glanced around at the mess. A hole in the lawn, a six foot long trench and piles of mud and tubs of foul-smelling grease everywhere. Thank god this was on the far side of the bar. If they covered the tubs with something, and pushed them down to the shed, they might not stink the bar out and put off all the customers. 'Hey, can we leave this open like this?' 

'It'll be fine. You'll need to get a plumber in tomorrow to replace that pipe anyway. No sense having to dig it up again.' With that, Jim slid the pit lid back in place. 

Blair looked at his watch. 'Great. Enough time to grab a shower and a coffee.' He tossed the trowel to one side and stood in the trench, careful to keep his boots free of the pipe. Keeping his arms wide for balance, he put a foot up onto the muddy grass, but there was no purchase. 

'Um, Jim? Could you maybe give me a hand here?' 

'Sure.' Jim came over, took his hand and tugged - but Blair's boots were caught in a vacuum of mud and Blair stayed where he was. 'Oh-kay, give me your other hand as well.' 

Blair placed his other hand in Jim's and leaned forward, ready to kneel on the grass as soon as he could get free of the mud. One solid tug from Jim pulled his boots free, but then his knees were slipping and sliding on the mud and he grabbed at Jim for stability, not wanting to fall back on the pipes and crush them. Suddenly, there was a grunt, two pairs of flailing arms and legs, a big splash of mud and water, and then nothing. 

Cautiously, Blair opened his eyes, trying to catch his breath. Half of him lay on top of Jim, the other underneath. They were both lying in the mud, the rain falling on their faces, though thankfully they were on the lawn and not in the trench. 'Hey, Jim, you okay?' 

'Yep, never better,' Jim started to chuckle then, a soft, tentative laugh, which gradually blossomed into a full belly laugh - but by then, Blair was joining in. For long, freezing cold moments, they just lay there, laughing like children. Then Jim rolled to his side and looked at Blair. 

Blair met his gaze... but his grin faded when he realized Jim was no longer smiling. Jim was simply looking at him, studying his face, ignoring the rain and mud as though they just didn't exist. Slowly and deliberately, he moved closer, until he was half-spread over Blair, arms on either side of Blair's shoulders, small drops of water clinging to his long eyelashes. 

Something in Blair wanted to move, to escape from that gaze, from that small, warm, solid cocoon - but Jim didn't give him the opportunity to say no. God how could he? He held his breath though, a twist of anticipation arcing through him, as Jim's mouth brushed against his, before pressing harder, a moan escaping one of them, he had no idea which. He opened up beneath the tentative touch, inviting Jim in, wanting him there, tasting him, the fresh rain water, the heat so shocking against his own cold flesh. Blair wanted to hold him closer, wanted to deepen the kiss, but Jim did that for him, his hands catching the sides of Blair's face tenderly, as his mouth licked and tasted, caressed and nibbled. 

And oh, how good it felt, how incredible, awakening things inside him he was sure were long since dead. His heart was thudding in his chest by the time Jim finally pulled back a little. Jim gazed at him a moment longer, eyes wide, frowning a little as though wanting to ask a question, but then he moved back further, letting Blair get himself free. 

'Let's get this stuff cleaned up and get inside.' Jim's voice was quiet as he rolled clear. 

Jim got up and gave Blair a hand to his feet. Splashing mud, they pulled the tubs to the shed, covered them with some planks of wood Jim found, and put the tools away. Then together, they walked back around to the kitchen door, saying nothing. Blair tried to gather himself as he opened the door, knowing he had to face the others, with no idea how he was going to after that kiss. 

Jesus, Jim had _kissed_ him! 

Dean and Daisy were in the kitchen staring at them. 

'What?' Blair asked, forcing his mind to deal with the situation at hand. 

'You've um... looked better, boss.' With a wry grin, Daisy continued. 'You want the good news or the bad?' 

'I know the good news - we fixed it. What's the bad?' 

'Martha called an hour ago - her mom's sick and she can't get a sitter for the kids.' 

'Oh, man, and we're already running behind.' 

'It gets worse. Charlie just called - his car won't start.' 

'Great!' Blair shook his head and began unlacing his boots. 'Dean, hand me a couple of those big black trash bags will you? Daisy, start uncorking half a dozen bottles of white and half a dozen red. Pull the extra box of glasses out from the shelf in the pantry - we're going to need them.' 

'Chief?' 

Blair had almost forgotten Jim standing beside him. 'What?' 

'I can stay and help.' 

'Jim, you've been a great help already, and you're covered in mud. I don't have any clothes that would fit you. You can't-' 

'My hotel is maybe four miles up the road. I can get home, shower and change and if you like, pick up Charlie on the way back. Does he live far from here?' 

'No, not far.' Blair paused with indecision, but it wasn't like they had a choice. Besides, it would keep Jim close for a few hours longer. 'Okay, thanks. Charlie's at 420 Balmain. From here, you turn left on the highway and head north. It's the third street on your right, the house at the end, on the left. We'll call and let him know you're coming.' 

'Back soon.' Jim cleaned his hands on an old towel Dean gave him, then grabbed one of the plastic bags for the truck seat and headed off into the rain. Blair watched him go a moment, then started stripping off his clothes until he was left in only his shorts. He shoved all his filthy clothes in the bag and stepped inside, openly shivering now, still dripping wet. He closed the door firmly behind him and growled loudly when he heard Daisy singing, 'I saw Blair in his underwear. I saw Blair in his underwear.' 

He shot a glance at Dean as he trudged through the kitchen, but the cook instantly turned away, his expression one of abundantly feigned innocence. 

Blair needed a shower. They were way behind time as it was, especially with one kitchen hand missing and in a little less than an hour, the first customers would arrive. He had to shower, dress and come down to help Dean with food preparation - and find some time somewhere in the evening to work out why the hell Jim had kissed him. 

* * *

Blair was up to his elbows in flour by the time Jim got back, with Charlie in tow. By that time the rain had finally stopped, leaving them with only a light wind that rattled against the kitchen windows now and then. 

But as Jim followed Charlie into the kitchen and pulled the door behind him, Blair came to a halt - mostly because his brain suddenly refused to function. 

Jim had _dressed_. Light grey silk shirt, black jeans just figure-hugging enough to show off his thighs and incredible ass. In the millisecond that it took Blair to realize he was staring, he managed to pull himself together and called for Daisy to join them in the kitchen. 

'Okay, people, we're still way behind here, and we've got less than half an hour before our first customers arrive. Daisy, you'll have to work the bar and seat people. Charlie, help out with the bar and wait tables. I'll have to stick to the kitchen or we'll never feed anybody. Jim, I'm afraid that leaves you with waiting tables. Not the most glamorous job, but since you don't know where anything is it'll be easier.' 

'No problem, Chief.' 

'Charlie, show Jim napkins, cutlery all that stuff. Daisy, if you're set up, we need breadsticks on every table - the food's going to be a little late coming out of the kitchen. Oh, and there's a tub of my special salsa in the fridge. Use the small white bowls.' 

'You got it, boss.' 

Blair paused a moment, glancing at each of them. Then he nodded. 'Okay, guys, let's do it.' 

He watched them file out into the bar, caught Dean with a smile on his face, then turned and followed after them, calling Jim back to stand close in the doorway. Keeping his voice low, he said, 'I'm guessing you still have your sense of smell dialed down.' 

'Hovering above zero, why?' 

'Dial it up a little? I need to know if the place stinks or not.' 

Jim nodded slowly, then tilted his head a little in a gesture so familiar it made Blair smile a little. He'd never ever said anything, but it was that gesture that first made Blair realize just how cute this man was. 

'I'm getting a little something here, Chief, but I've got the dial up to nine. I doubt any of your guests are going to notice it.' 

'Great, Jim, thanks.' 

Then Jim gave him a smile. Not the million-bucks I-haven't-got-a-care-in-the-world smile, but one that hinted at it, leaving Blair a little frayed at the edges and pulling in a breath to stop himself pulling Jim down for another one of those kisses. 

'I'll get to work,' Jim turned away, apparently oblivious to the affect he was having on Blair. Or maybe not. 

Blair watched him go a moment, simply enjoying the view, then called out to Daisy. 'Hey surfer-girl - put some music on, will you? Something we can work to.' 

'Santana?' Daisy appeared from under the bar. 

Blair could only laugh, 'Sure, why not?' 

* * *

It was almost midnight before Jim finally ran out of work - which meant they'd been running around for more than six hours without a break. Now he remembered why he'd decided to get an education, join the army and then become a cop. His back ached, his knees ached, his eyes stung, his feet were throbbing and his ears were ringing from the sheer volume of the music and the voices raised above it. 

But they'd done it. Fifty six meals in all, most of them at least two courses, a large number even three. Back and forth to the kitchen, then to tables, remembering where everything was, remembering where to put things back, clearing empty plates, stacking the dishwasher when he could, emptying it if he got a chance, taking money, working out how to use the till because Daisy was engaged in a dispute over somebody's check. Finding Charlie when he had a question, and sometimes having to make it up because he couldn't. Rearranging tables when only half a booked group turned up, but another four walked in without one. Losing three plates of food when he collided with Dean in the kitchen, and bashing his elbow on the swing door - not once, but _five_ times. 

By the time the last customers were hovering over coffees, Blair sent Daisy - who'd been there since six that morning - home, with Charlie who needed a lift. Since Dean didn't need to make rolls for the following morning, Blair let him go soon after, making sure he'd told them all what a great job they'd done, leaving Jim putting the last loads of glasses through the washer while Blair wiped tables down and mopped. He then busied himself in the kitchen for a while before emerging with a coffee for both of them. The last customers had gone by then. As Jim put away the last trays of glasses and took the empty bottles out, Blair took up a seat opposite him at the bar, going over the night's receipts, writing notes on the bookings sheet, tallying up the ledger. 

And then Jim's night of work finally came to an end. He had one last look around to make sure he hadn't left anything undone, but it all looked great. He stopped at the end of the bar then, his gaze unable to stray from the slim, exhausted form seated at the other end, hunched over his books, absently sipping his coffee. 

He'd kissed Blair. Without thinking about it, without meaning to ... no, that wasn't right, he _had_ meant to, just... not quite like that and not quite that quickly. And while Blair had kissed him back, he hadn't said anything, hadn't made any move to push Jim away - but nor had he pulled Jim closer, or touched Jim voluntarily in any manner. 

Had Jim just ruined his chances? Or had he maybe given Blair an idea of why he was here, maybe touched on some of the things he'd wanted to talk about that afternoon. 

He had no way of knowing anything. Blair was harder to read now than he'd ever been, so Jim had no choice but to press on. 

He picked up his coffee and moved up the bar, pulling a stool close to Blair. 'Hey,' he murmured, 'Can't you do that in the morning?' 

'Mmn? Oh, yeah, I guess - except it's my day off tomorrow.' 

'What constitutes a day off in this place?' 

'Oh, we don't actually open. Doesn't mean people don't come knocking on the door demanding to be fed, but it does mean I can ignore them with a clear conscience.' Blair frowned a little, keeping his gaze on his book while he wrote something down. He would have written more, except Jim took the pen from him with one hand and with the other, reached out and turned Blair's stool towards him. 

'Enough. You're exhausted. It's after midnight - you're officially off duty.' 

Blair blinked up at him, obviously struggling to keep his eyes open, surprised by Jim's insistence. Jim smiled a little, and without saying anything more, he reached out again, but this time, put his hand on Blair's knee, his fingers curling under the curve of the joint, thumb gently shifting against the faded denim. 

Blair became still, his gaze sliding down to Jim's hand. He said nothing, just kept his eyes there for long, torturous moments and then, in a move that made Jim's heart twist inside him, Blair reached out his own hand, using a single finger to trace a caress from Jim's wrist to the tips of his nails. 

Jim could hear his breath getting a little ragged, matching his own. He knew he had to get out of here soon, or one of them would do something they'd both regret - well, okay, maybe not immediately, but probably tomorrow. 

But that faintly erotic touch was enough, more than he'd hoped for, more than he could ever have expected. It told him what the kissing had meant, what maybe some of the rest of it meant. 

Hope. It meant he had a chance here, a chance to win Blair - and that was a prize he was determined to take home with him. 

So he spoke, his voice soft and gentle, 'I'm going.' 

Blair's gaze finally rose to meet his and for a moment - a dreadful moment - there was a flash of raw vulnerability in his eyes, quickly shuttered, but not so quickly Jim could miss the glimpse into Blair's soul. 

That glimpse was enough to take his breath away, enough to make him add, 'I'll see you tomorrow. Maybe take that drive.' 

There was a spark of relief in Blair's eyes then, and the smallest hint of smile. Blair nodded. 'Yeah, okay. And thanks, you know, for helping out. If you hadn't been such a mud freak as a kid...' 

That made Jim smile - and he was delighted to find Blair smile back at him. 'No knowledge is wasted, remember, Chief?' He let go of Blair's knee and got to his feet. 

Blair followed him to the door to lock up behind him. Jim paused a moment, turning back to look at the younger man, wanting to say something, wanting even to perhaps kiss him goodnight - but the words that came out surprised him. 'You've done great with this place, Chief. And tonight - well, you were incredible. You're a natural leader. This whole thing would have fallen apart if it hadn't been for you. You should be proud of yourself.' 

Blair's eyes widened at that, and an unconsciously shy smile brightened his face. 'Um, thanks, Jim.' 

'Goodnight.' 

'Goodnight.' 

And with that, Jim slipped outside into the cool night air, and with purpose in his stride, feeling better than he had in more than a year, he headed back to his hotel, ready to face the challenge of the next few days. 

End Part 5  
To be continued in Without Fear Part 6 

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End Without Fear 5 by Scala: scala8925@yahoo.com

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Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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